Diary Entry
Sunday
Oh, what a morning. I was jolted out of a rare Sunday lie-in by the shrill ring of my phone. It wasnt even light yet, and there it wasMrs. Lydia Parker, the sort of neighbour youd expect to spot curtain-twitching at any odd hour, breathless and agitated down the line.
Sergeant Davies, you must come straight away! I simply cant bear it any longer! she snapped. Her call was barely past six, the hour when, as everyone knows, no decent soul ought to be doing anything but sleeping.
I replied calmlypractice makes perfect in this line of work. Whats happened, Mrs. Parker? I asked, glancing at the bedside clock.
Whats happened? The Barkers dog has howled all night, all through the early morning! My nerves are quite in tatters, really. My blood pressure is through the roofI need peace, but instead I get this. And those neighbours of mine!
What about them? I asked, my tone even.
They do nothing but think of themselves! Ive tried to talk sense into them, and all I got was a mouthful for my troublestold me to get lost, in so many words! Well, I wont have it. Im a lady of mature years and I wont stand for such rudeness. So you must come, Sergeant Davies, immediately! You wouldnt want an ambulance carting me away after a turn, would you?
I promised Id be there soon and began dressing, meticulously buttoning up my uniform, gathering the old battered black folder, and heading out. My mind reeled with a few lines from a Shelley poemendless work, barely a chance for rest.
Its about a ten-minute brisk walk to her building. Enough for me to clear my head and brace for the day. Policing this neighbourhood hasnt come easyIm new to Nottingham, only transferred here a month ago, and every face and street seems to be testing my resolve and patience.
It wasnt supposed to be like thisearly rises, weekends nipped in the bud by disputes over barking dogs. But I chose this path, didnt I? Being a community officer isnt just paperwork. Its endless interactions, listening to grievances large and small, dropping in on old offenders, keeping a finger on the local pulse… Trying, as best I can, to preempt trouble before it turns catastrophic.
So, like it or not, I found myself marching to Mrs. Parkers, prepared, as ever, to deal with whatever lay in storeincluding, in this instance, a dog that had apparently kept the whole building from sleep.
Mrs. Parker is, lets say, a spirited soul. Inclined to exaggeration, but not someone I dare ignore. Shed escalate straight to Parliament if given half a chance. Its easier to check these things myself than risk an onslaught of complaints about my competence.
*****
She was waiting by the entrance, positively buzzing when I rounded the corner.
Finally! she cried. You took your time. Ive half-frozen out here!
So, tell me exactly what happened, I said, notebook open, though I could have recited her grievances by heart already.
I told you on the phone. Dog yapping all night long, keeps me wide awake. Bangs and shouts from that flat on top of it. Like theres a circus up thererowdy chatter, dreadful music, and things falling over. Its unbearable.
Who lives there now? I pressed.
Oh, youre new, arent you Sergeant. Bear with me. It used to be my dear friend Ellen Barker before she, well Mrs. Parker waved a hand heavenwards.
Ah. So who now?
Her grandson, Jimmy. Bit of a troublemaker. Moved in just as you arrived here. Used to live with his mum in another part of town, but now hes taken over Ellens flat. And with him has come a parade of rowdy friends. A few days ago, dragged in a dogsaw it myself from my window, poor thing.
Does the dog belong to him?
No idea. Seems a purebred thoughprobably nicked it, if you ask me, hoping to flog it off somewhere.
Alright, Mrs. Parker. You head insideits cold. Ill have a word with him.
Mrs. Parker was the first person I met after taking up this patch in Nottingham. Shed introduced herself at the station and spent a solid forty minutes describing everyone in the block and their potential for causing trouble. I learned quicklyif anything happened worth knowing, Mrs. Parker would be the first to tell me.
Her warnings about Jimmy had been passing remarkswatch that one, shed insisted. Not that Id had occasion to meet the lad myself until now.
I trudged up to the fourth floor, knuckles ready. Sure enough, I heard the muffled strain of bass-heavy music and the plaintive whining of a dog.
I knocked. Once, twice, three times. Nothing but increased howling.
Noted the lack of a doorbella couple of wires the only evidence one ever existed. I touched them together, setting off a shrill ring. After a minute, the door was flung open.
The young man who glared at me stopped mid-retort when he saw my uniform.
Sorry, officer. Thought it was the old battleaxe from downstairs again. She never leaves me alone. What brings you by this early? Something wrong?
I stated my business calmly, introducing myself. Got a complaint about noise and a distressed dog.
He shrugged. Were just having a quiet drink, thats all. Dogs fine. Probably wants to go out, thats all.
I watched as Jimmy stalked over to the puppy, perhaps intending to kick it. The wee thing ducked out of the way, making me tense. I stepped in, catching his wrist before he could hit the animal.
Theres no sense in taking out your frustration on a helpless creature, I said quietly but firmly. Violence isnt the answer.
He sneered, Thats how you have to train em. It works, trust me.
His pal from the kitchen ambled out, glassy-eyed.
I scooped up the puppy, turning back at the threshold. Whered you get this dog? I asked.
Found him on the street, Jimmy mumbled. Not illegal to rescue a stray, is it?
Right. Gentlemen, the partys over. If theres another complaint, youll spend a fortnight in the cells for breach of the peace. Im taking the dog. You can collect him at the stationif youre sobertomorrow morning between eight and noon.
I left, not looking back. At least their rowdiness was cut short for the day.
*****
Mrs. Parker was waiting for my return.
All sorted, I told her. Ive warned him. If the noise starts again, you ring me.
Youre a dear, Sergeant. Taking the dog, too, I see. Whatll happen to him now?
Hell stay with me a night. Ill have another word with Jimmy tomorrowremind him that cruelty to animals wont be tolerated.
I wouldnt give the poor thing back to them at all, she sniffed.
I shrugged. Well see. Take care, Mrs. Parker.
On the way back to the station, I bought some puppy foodexpensive, but I couldn’t let the little guy go hungry.
The following morning, dread knotted in my stomach as I unlocked my office to a chaotic scene: chewed up printer paper, upturned chairs, the debris of a spirited midnight rampage. On the lone surviving sofa, the puppy thumped his tail like an eager metronome.
Brilliant, mate, I muttered. Youve outdone yourself. The chiefs due in any minute. What would he say?
Thankfully, no one did turn up that day. Nor did Jimmy. Nor the next day. Or the next.
Which left me with a dog, apparently abandoned. I called on Mrs. Parker, hoping against hope.
Fancy a dog, Mrs. Parker? Hes eager to please, I said, hoisting the puppy.
Heavens, no! I need quiet, not a guard dog, she retorted. You know my blood pressure.
I could relate, in all honesty.
So back we wentto the police station, puppy now officially my shadow for another week.
*****
Things became complicated one morning, the worst-case scenario. The deputy inspector, Mr. William Turner, dropped by early, catching me off guard. The office was a disaster. As soon as he set foot in a puddle on the threshold, the puppynow named Monty, for want of a better thoughtstarted barking furiously at him.
Sergeant! What the devil is all this? You cant house a dog in the station. Whats it doing here? You have your own flat!
Half an hour later, after a thorough dressing-down, Monty and I relocated. Id not planned it, but there we were, flatmates now.
All was relatively peaceful, until I began receiving callsfirst from one elderly resident, then another. Monty, it appeared, didnt care one bit for boundaries, barking through my absence loud enough for half the block to hear.
No way around it now, I thought. Leaving him behind wasnt an option. From then on, Monty and I became inseparablework, walks, home life. Over time, a friendship blossomed, the sort only a man and his dog can knowsturdy, loyal, and somehow comforting in a way that little else is.
If luck isnt with me in love, I mused over a solitary evening cuppa, at least Ive found it in a dog. Not everyone can understandbeing a police officer is more a lifestyle than a job, and few women would willingly sign on for it. Forty years old, still a bachelor, but at least now I had a companion who brightened my days. Even Mrs. Parker remarked I looked less morose than when I first arrived.
*****
A while later, a minor catastropheMonty, ever the opportunist, pinched a rotisserie chicken from an open stall in the park while I took a call. The vendor shouted, Stop! Thief! and I quickly paid for Montys ill-gotten lunch, enduring many a sidelong glance from bystanders.
That night, Monty and I devoured the chicken togethertoo busy for a proper meal, it tasted much sweeter for the adventure. No more stealing, I scolded gently. Monty wagged and barked in what could have passed for agreement.
Now nearly grown, Monty had the air of a proper police doga reputation building around The Sarge and his loyal hound patrolling Nottingham. Local drunks, upon spying us, tossed their tinnies and declared lifelong sobriety. Truthfully, they feared Montys sharp nose more than any stern words from me.
*****
One evening as we returned home, we heard a womans scream not far off. Monty pricked his ears and shot ahead. Bags abandoned, I dashed after him. A womanearly thirties, tear-streakedstood in the street, panic-stricken.
My handbag! Its gone. All my wages, my house keys, my phonewhat am I to do?
How many? I asked, already moving. Which way?
Two men, over there, she sobbed, pointing toward the derelict building site.
Keep an eye on my groceries, I called, racing after Monty, who was already sniffing at a mitten dropped in haste.
A short chase, and I found two rough-looking lads by some garagesone clutching a womans handbag, the other fidgeting.
Go on, check for cash! one hissed.
I kept low, ordering Monty to stay as I stepped into the light. The taller one started, and to my disbelief, it was Jimmy.
Sergeant! Fancy seeing you here, he drawled. Bit far from your station, eh?
Its my job. And youstill causing trouble, I see.
He grinned, producing a knife. Shouldve handled you back at the flat. Took my dog. Well, here we are.
His mate produced a blade too, both closing in. But Monty lunged from the shadows, barking his head off and sending Jimmy sprawling. With their focus divided, I wrestled his accomplice to the ground. Soon both were face-down, cursing.
Jimmy muttered under his breath, clearly recognising the puppy-now-dog he once mistreated.
Thirty minutes later, having handed the miscreants over to the patrol van, I returned with Monty and the reclaimed handbag.
The woman, still trembling, thanked me with such relief I felt slightly embarrassed.
And to your Monty, too! she added, crouching to stroke him. How wonderful he is!
Her name was Alice, as I soon discovered, and we saw her safely home that night.
The next morning she arrived at the station, cheeks pink with gratitude, bearing a massive apple pie for me and a roast chicken especially for Monty.
*****
Both Jimmy and his friend were convictednot only for the theft, but a spate of burglaries and muggings dating from their time in Birmingham. The chief inspector praised me, with even a mention of a commendation.
But it wasnt the handshakes or bonus that mattered. It was meeting Alicea kind, thoughtful, ever-so-slightly lonely woman, and not altogether unlike myself. In Montys wagging tail, I found family. With Alice, perhaps hope for something more. Two solitary souls, not quite so alone anymore, thanks to the scruffy hound who, in the end, brought more peace to my flat than all the quiet Mrs. Parker ever craved.
Turns out, you truly never know how fortune will come wagging into your life.
